You are very strong, but my painting style is better than yours!

Although Azriel's words were exaggerated, the God of War on the throne was actually expressionless. If anything, there was only a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. This would hardly be considered a sign of happiness on an ordinary person, but for Azriel, who knew the God of War very well, it was quite unusual.

"Are you referring to... the time to defeat the gods and seize supreme authority?"

Azriel was excited: "Is it finally time to go to war with the gods?"

“...You really disappoint me, Azriel.”

The God of War sighed, causing the green-haired Skywing to lower his head in fear and trepidation.

"Your vision is too narrow. In your opinion, my greatest enemy is those gods?"

Am I so weak that I need a specific opportunity to kill a god-like being?

"of course not!"

"I feel joy because there has finally come something worthy of my attention."

"...Could it be the remaining two Dragon Kings?"

"Do not."

"Are they divine beings that escaped to the outer void?"

"Do not."

"Is it a mutated fantasy species, the Demon King?"

"Do not."

After three consecutive denials, Altshus became intrigued: "Precisely because he is an individual outside of your understanding and does not exist in this world, he possesses a possibility that even I cannot judge."

"Possibility...you mean?"

"The possibility of defeating me."

"Varied--"

Azriel was speechless, then unleashed a terrifying killing intent that nearly stole all the heat from the hall.

"This is absolutely impossible! Your Majesty was born the strongest! We will never allow anyone to offend your honor!"

“Boring, so incredibly boring, Azriel.”

Artesius was not angry at Azriel's loss of composure. He was incredibly dignified, yet he possessed a peculiar gentleness in front of his subordinates.

"Without an equal opponent, where does my glory come from... I have been waiting for a challenge, and this is the first time since 'The Final Dragon'."

"Could it be... that he's even stronger than the Dragon King?"

"Who knows? Even for me, it's an unknown."

Artesius laughed, "That's what makes it interesting."

"..."

Azriel calmed down: "Where is that lord? We will bring him to you."

"You are a loyal but inflexible individual. As my outstanding work, you undoubtedly possess great power, but your mindset has confined your realm."

Artesu lowered his gaze, watching Azriel with amusement, then looked intently into the distance.

"Don't rush... He is the challenger. As the strongest, I don't need to actively seek out anyone."

Moreover, they must at least prove their strength before they are qualified to challenge me.

How can one be considered 'strong' without killing one or two divine beings or dragon kings? If I can't even do that, there's no need for me to get up."

"But wouldn't that expand the other side's power?"

Azriel knew that some god-slaying weapons existed in the world.

"I've heard that the goblin race has developed weapons using unactivated divine essence, and the forest elves are never peaceful either. If they were to obtain these powers..."

"Do I need to worry about this?"

Altshu asked in return.

Azriel was taken aback, then smiled sweetly, revealing a tenderness she only showed in front of her master.

"Of course not, my lord~"

Why?

Because Altshu is the strongest!

……

"Today is still incredibly boring."

A young girl stood on a high place; it was Jibril, who had returned to her original form. She gazed at the land covered with ashes—spirits.

This landscape, though monotonous, has existed for so long that even the feeling of "boredom" has become thin. The crimson sky and the deathly silent earth have long been taken for granted in this world.

The girl's sigh was not for the scenery, but for this boring life.

The gods, vying for the throne of the one true god, led their respective retinues in an endless struggle. The young girl, however, harbored no resentment towards the struggle itself.

As a "weapon" created by the great master, the God of War Artesius, killing, destruction, and ravaging are the meaning of her existence. What could better embody this than an endless war?

What annoyed her was that she hadn't encountered a prey she could boast about to everyone in a long time.

"Sigh, isn't there a head I can collect?"

The girl uttered words that were sweet yet cruel.

Upon closer inspection, her appearance was as pure and holy as an angel's, with a halo like a sun crown floating above her head, magnificent wings extending from her waist, and long hair flowing in the wind as if sculpted from gemstones. A cross pattern appeared in her amber eyes, exuding both beauty and allure.

However, the cruelty within this race is inversely proportional to their outward beauty.

Gazing at the black storm of spirit corpses rising on the distant horizon, Jibril blinked.

These spirit remains are deadly poisons to ordinary creatures, but to a superior race like her, they are nothing more than a gentle breeze. Far from feeling fear, she found them rather intriguing.

"Although the scenery around my home is more beautiful, it can get boring after a while, and I sometimes want to go out for a walk."

She barely thought about it; her body moved naturally.

"Jibriel? Are you going to launch an attack?"

Her companion, seeing her flap her wings, asked a question.

"No, it's not an attack."

She smiled and replied, "It's just a hunting trip."

Before beheading an enemy, one must first find valuable prey—this is common knowledge among the Skywing race. Jibril is the type who is particularly adept at finding enemies, which is why her collection is more extensive than that of many of her predecessors.

"You're really diligent."

The senior smiled.

"By the way, when you go out, do you want to look for some rather unusual heads?"

"strange?"

Jibril tilted her head. "What kind? A superior race?"

"No, it's something outside our knowledge, something that doesn't exist in the hunting catalog. I've already sent many of my sisters to look for it."

"Let's just treat it as a contest with prizes," Azriel smiled slightly, a strange, obscure light flashing in her eyes.

My lord, you are certainly the strongest, but if it is someone we cannot even defeat, there is no need to bring him to your presence, is there?

Chapter 534 Even the big wings were so excited they were waving a flag!

The Skywing race mobilized in full force, but the God of War, Artes, paid no attention, perhaps because he didn't care, or perhaps simply to pass the time. In any case, he just quietly watched the actions of his tools, his daughter, and his warriors.

Naturally, this major move triggered panic among many races, and even the superior races had to be on high alert.

Arrogance is one thing, but foolishly throwing their lives away is another. Even beings of higher rank than the Skywing race cannot underestimate these humanoid weapons created by the God of War.

Although the God of War's original intention was to create elite soldiers capable of killing gods (with the ultimate goal of growing to the point where they could fight him), none of them could meet this requirement, so theoretically they were all failures... Yet it was these failures that caused all races to suffer greatly over countless years.

"I killed a lot of forest elves and fairy species today, and it felt very enjoyable."

—See Azriel's diary for details.

The most common topic of their conversations was how they slew an enemy of a certain race and obtained such a rare head.

These angelically beautiful girls, without batting an eye and even with relish, recalled their bloody battles. They were either killing the enemy or being killed by the enemy; they were born as "weapons" and reveled in the killing.

Resembling Slaanesh in appearance and Khorne in behavior, this is the [Skywing Race].

However, upon closer examination, it is understandable, after all, they are one of the superior races capable of destroying the world, and the followers of the God of War.

The God of War is the embodiment of victory, war, and the strongest concepts; it seems perfectly normal that his retinue is bloodthirsty and warlike.

Naturally, they derive pleasure from the suppression and ravages of other races. They are messengers of the gods who subjugate all justice with violence, build their happiness on war, and spread conflict and death throughout the world.

For them, leaving their homes to hunt in the surface world and destroying a few cities they don't like is nothing out of the ordinary.

Incidentally, they are called headhunters because they have a custom of collecting their most precious trophies—heads—as symbols of honor. Although they are beautiful and charming, when they get together, they don't talk about jewelry or dressing up, but rather compare whose heads are more numerous and rarer.

...In short, they're a bunch of twisted guys.

What does it mean that such a large group of monsters has begun to act?

I have no other thoughts than war.

What race is qualified to be targeted by so many Skywings?

I don't think about anything other than the superior races.

Even the Forest Elves and Goblins, the two most powerful races, did not consider themselves the primary target of the Skywings, because their strength was built on the "collective," and the head of an individual was not worth the Killing Angels' excitement.

……

"This is so annoying. Even though the sound is blocked, it's like swimming in an ocean of malice... Just how many lives have died?"

A pitch-black blizzard raged across the land, but it would evaporate into thin air just before it hit Iori.

Therefore, there was no accumulated black ash within several meters of where he was sitting.

"I suppose this is truly a world view based on a doomsday war measured in tens of thousands of years. This is an astonishing amount of resentment... The world is already dead."

This dark emotion, as scorching as flames in purgatory, seemed to have no end in sight.

Just as Iori was pondering these things, something moving at an extremely high speed entered his field of vision.

No, it's not "entering," but "appearing." It appeared there without any warning, with no trace of its movement.

"Space transfer?"

Iori looked up in surprise and saw a winged girl descending from the sky.

"Oh my, what a strange race. A beast with no power appearing alone... um?"

With long hair reflecting a magical spectrum and amber eyes, the girl floated in mid-air with a puzzled expression.

"Hello, and although it's presumptuous of me, could you please tell me your race?"

Jibril looked down at Iori, her luscious lips uttering cold words.

"Otherwise, it would be a bit troublesome to classify the heads."

Jibril—Iori raised an eyebrow.

To be honest, anime characters change a bit when they become real people, and the Skywing race is actually quite difficult to distinguish because their outfits and appearances are all similar. However, Iori has a strong impression of this voice (Tamura Yukari). In his previous life, he quite liked this tone, second only to being called a pervert by Miyuki.

Of course, anime is anime, and reality is reality. In the original work, Jibril, who is both lewd and interesting, is, in this time period, a pure Chosen of Khorne in every respect, similar to Esdeath. Iori wouldn't hesitate to act against her based on preconceived notions.

So, when faced with Xiao Ji's question, he simply smiled and said, "Human."

"That's impossible."

Jibril's smile vanished instantly. Rainbow-colored elven magic flowed from the wings that sprouted from her waist, dispelling all the surrounding ashes and creating a gust of wind that swept past Iori.

"Humans cannot breathe freely in this environment. They are not even a 'lower race,' but just wild monkeys who cannot use magic. They certainly do not have the courage and will to be so frank in front of me."

You're just a species that looks like a human, or is imitating their appearance... This kind of magic... Forest elf? Vampire? Could it be the rarest fairy species?

If so, then I really have to thank Azriel; listening to her led me to a very valuable head.

Do you want my head?

Iori looked gently at the Skywing girl, revealing a smile devoid of any emotional fluctuation.